Come Home
by Beckon
Summary: Mileena sported a grin at the woman's clear words of frustrations. They had no doubt been bottled up throughout the day, merely waiting to burst the moment she had someone else to speak to. "Come now, Dearest," she mused, "you are my Ambassador for a reason."


**A/N: Making an aim for myself this year to focus on smaller, looser ideas so I don't get bogged down by 10+ chapter Goliaths- which will, hopefully, in turn mean that I'll start posting more content.  
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"The Shokan are _impossible-_ it's like they've never written a treaty before. They demand too much and give too little in return. Given how small their numbers are and the fragile state that their hierarchy is in to begin with, you would think they'd be a little more proactive with strengthening their alliances. Or at least treating their allies with some form of respect."

Mileena amused herself with a quiet chuckle as she dragged her nails across the map in front of her, sprawled and stretched from corner to corner on her desk. Pins had been used to keep the thin paper pinned down, while tacks and knives had been placed across the map to mark certain regions, certain cities. It was worth noting, however, that a bit of overzealous planning had had the knife rip open parts of the map rather than make a simple landmark incision.

But each mark had a reason, each mark had a purpose.

It showed land, it showed collection.

And more importantly, it showed power.

It showed control.

The cut lines, the collection of tacks, the perching knife all showed where her hand controlled Outworld.

They showed the movement of her army; ruthless, brutal, and ultimately unstoppable at this point.

The Shokan had every right to demand too much, for she had enough to give.

Even the most selfish demands would hardly equate to a small fraction of her power, of her fortune.

But that did not mean that she had to give it away- or that she would for that matter.

"They are still living in the age of my father," Mileena replied, as she pushed herself from her desk and stood to her feet. A subtle stretch pulled at the muscles that now ached after hours of deliberating with her Generals, of consulting her counsel.

She was the Empress and her title came with the spiked crown that sat weighed on her head, but she was far from reckless, far from stupid.

Her word was final.

But she was not without counsel, not without debate.

Her decisions would be calibrated, calculated, and accurate.

Walking across the length of her office, Mileena toyed with the cut stone she held in her hand; she could feel the warmth radiating off of it, pooling heat into her palm. When she ran the manicured curve of her nail against the edge of the stone, she felt it vibrate in response- pulsating a subtle hint of light from within it.

Such a small, powerful artifact.

Not one of Outworld creation, but of Edenian.

 _"It will keep you close to me," Tanya spoke, as she pushed the crystal into Mileena's hands and used her own to close their fingers around it._

 _The touch of their hands ignited the glow of their Edenian markings, which pulsed gently down their arms- humming in harmony between intertwined fingers.  
_

 _Tanya's glow was yellow._

 _Hers were red._

 _"But what does it do?" Mileena pressed for a second time._

 _She knew plenty of Outworld magic, of Outworld craft- having seen plenty of it in the market place. There were always eager merchants willing to show off their alchemy skills, or whatever it was they had used to conjure their latest creations with._

 _But Edenian magic was still foreign to her._

 _"It will let us speak to one another, no matter how far we might be."_

Mileena ducked through the thin curtain that acted as a closing wall and stepped out onto her open balcony- welcoming herself to the cool breeze of the night. The Outworld sun was unforgiving during the day and its heat could last well into the night, keeping the temperatures hot long after it had disappeared. It would be well past ten, sometimes eleven before the cooling breeze of the desert swept in and soaked up the remaining heat- cooling down the streets and making it easier to breathe.

An unusual, provided comfort in such a Godless place.

"They still picture themselves at the top of the food chain."

"I wouldn't put them at the top of my staff," Tanya retorted; half as an insult, half as a snort. "Not unless it was their head anyways- and they would break it regardless."

Mileena sported a grin at the woman's clear words of frustrations; they had no doubt been bottled up throughout the day, merely waiting to burst the moment she had someone non-Shokan to speak to. "Come now, Dearest," she mused, "you are my Ambassador for a reason."

"Yes, as a sign of good faith to what and who remains of the Outworld-Edenian army," Tanya reminded. "The Shokan turned their backs on us when we needed them; I have no respect nor heeds as to what needs they beg from us now." There was a hint of a pause in the woman's words before she quietly continued. "Although I must admit that it is not nearly as rewarding as I thought it would be to see them knocked down in the same manner that we were."

Mileena could not blame Tanya for her lingering grudge against the four-armed creatures; she herself had very little faith in the Shokan's word of trust.

As soon as word of her father, the Emperor Shao Kahn's death had reached them, the Shokan had rioted and disbanded themselves from the Emperor's army- quick to proclaim war against the Tarkatan, and the Centaurs. Proclaiming war against all of those who had once served with them under the Emperor's reign. It had been a hard slap of betrayal from the once loyal species who had served her father for generations.

It had been a slap of betrayal, a slap of personal disgust against her, who had quickly stepped into the seat of power following her father's death.

She was his daughter, she was next in line; it was bylaw that she take the former Emperor's place- that she would rise to the ranks of Kahnum.

The Tarkatan, her own half-blood, had remained loyal to her; they had fought for her in the resulting war that was quick to follow- eventually earning her her victory, earning her the crown that was rightfully hers to begin with.

... But as Empress, she had to think logically; she had to be rational.

Mileena was not without holding a grudge herself, but she needed to keep her alliances open- she needed to keep the bridges from becoming burned. The war against the Osh-Tekk was still fresh, still lingering as smoke clouds in the distance.

It had been the Emperor himself who had forced the Shokan, the Tarkatan, and the Centaur to fight to the death, to fight one another for his glory.

Their shared hatred for one another had been bred and exploited by the Emperor, all for his gain, all for the wealth for stronger and stronger warriors for his armies. The Emperor had even pitted Shokan against Shokan, Centaur against Centaur, Tarkatan against Tarkatan; he had forced them to fight again and again so that only the strongest remained alive- so that their strength would be carried on to the next generation.

The Shokan were not without fault.

The power and exploits of her father were the reasons behind the many issues now falling onto her shoulders.

Decades of inner fighting, of inner wars, and plagues had battered and beaten Outworld into a wasteland- flattening it into a permanent battleground of death and near-death.

And while it was an aesthetic that Mileena felt at home in, that she admired and had grown up with, it was coming at the cost of Outworld itself.

Just like how her father enjoyed collecting warriors, he also enjoyed collecting realms. He enjoyed overrunning them, gutting and stripping them of warriors, of women, and crushing the skeletal remains into the atmosphere. The Emperor had been obsessed with creating a bigger, more powerful realm- looking to turn it into a Goliath that would be large enough, that would be hungry enough to devour the other realms in its wake.

(He had already devoured Edenia.)

(But had been struck down before he could take Earthrealm.)

And much like her father's former armies, much like the once loyal Shokan, and Centaur, the battered remains of the lesser realms were now killing each other. Mileena could see small tears in the night sky where the seams between different realms were beginning to burst. She could see where the Outworld landscape was beginning to peel apart and collapse in on itself.

It was like the fingers of the Gods were raking themselves through Outworld and ripping it apart as they went.

But just like her treaties, with her alliances, there were still ways for her to fix it- to fix Outworld.

She bore no will, no interest in further merging with realms.

And she heard no voice in her head that begged and persuaded her to do so.

One by one, she would rid Outworld of the tumors her father had plagued it with.

She would re-balance the realm and restore Outworld to its glory.

"When will you make an end?" Mileena questioned, leaning against the stone railing of her balcony as she looked out across the silent city. Asides from her own Tarkatan soldiers patrolling the streets outside, there was no else to be seen.

The city was quiet, it was still.

It reminded her of the aching loneliness she had been battling with for the past few days.

It reminded her of the cold, empty half of the bed that she slept next to every night.

It reminded her of how the warm stone in her hand did little to replicate the warm feeling of another's arms around her.

"When I am finished- which cannot come quick enough," Tanya quipped.

And once more, Mileena offered the pitied Ambassador a quiet laugh.

And she pitied herself with a quiet sigh.

"Come home soon, Dearest."


End file.
